


Flattery

by Stegowrites



Category: Street Fighter
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stegowrites/pseuds/Stegowrites
Summary: F.A.N.G puts on a familiar outfit and uses all the dominance that it implies.





	Flattery

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another old one that I had originally posted on my blog, but it's also one that I enjoyed writing a lot, even with the over-the-top porniness of it. Includes more dominant F.A.N.G and submissive Bison, plus some raunchy... poison kink, if THAT'S a thing.
> 
> Anyway, something something, "dress for the job you want," and all that!

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Bison’s tone was less one of agitation and more of baffled amusement. F.A.N.G smiled in response, his narrow face blushing as if the question had been a compliment.

“You like it, Lord Bison?”

“Well, it’s certainly _familiar_.”

F.A.N.G extended his long limbs, stretching his back out of its typical slouched posture. As he did so, his new uniform draped loosely around his slender shoulders and hips. The fabric-–blood red with an inky-black trim–-was indeed an uncanny resemblance to Bison’s.

“If I hadn’t known you were so _obsessed_ , F.A.N.G, I’d have thought you were attempting to _mock_ me.” Baffled amusement, laced with the slightest growl of threat.

“Ah, but you know what they say, my Lord: ‘Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!’”

Bison scoffed at that, but the fuchsia coloration that filled his cheeks revealed that he was, in fact, flattered by F.A.N.G’s detailed replica of his own uniform. Sure, the proportions might have been grotesquely elongated, but the _symbolism_ was there, and damned if confronting it didn’t excite him.

“Then I suppose you’re implying that you’re in charge, here?”

F.A.N.G crossed his arms, his head cocked to one side like a curious bird. He looked Bison square in the eye, his neck tense and clawed fingers flexing, as if that metaphorical bird were a _bird of prey_. When he spoke, his voice was low, and with the most _menacing_ smile that he could manage.

“Well, _Bison_ , you’re sitting there in nothing but your underwear. What does that make _you_?”

Bison’s skin prickled. It was unlike F.A.N.G to drop the formality when speaking to him. He might have called him out on his disrespect, had it not so turned him on in this context.

That is to say: the context of the two of them alone in M. Bison’s private quarters, Bison sitting half-naked at the edge of his bed, his legs parted just enough for F.A.N.G’s slight body to stand between them. The anticipation of it all made him salivate. 

“You’re my little **slut** , aren’t you, Bison?”

Bison swallowed his spit so hard that he nearly choked. Anyone else–-anyTIME else-–whoever spoke to him like that would have had their bones shattered before even finishing the slightest utterance of “slut,” but now…

“Y-yes, F.A.N.G…”

Bison choked again as slender fingers curled around his neck.

“That’s _Lord_ F.A.N.G to you, slut.”

“Of… of course, Lord F.A.N.G,” Bison forced out when the grip on his neck was released, leaving a handprint of iridescent poison shimmering against his throat. For as much as it aroused him to be in such a submissive role, speaking with such formality to a subordinate was… well, the _words themselves_ tasted like poison.

“Good boy,” F.A.N.G praised, bowing down into a kiss. 

As seemed to be the trend with F.A.N.G, his tongue was long, and quite flexible. It lapped across Bison’s lips and into his mouth in a rough, clumsy way, yet it was _so thrilling_. He craved the feeling of it _everywhere_.

Bison growled deep purrs of desire as F.A.N.G kissed him and caressed him, smearing poison over the stubble of his jaw and the bulk of his chest. The toxins were cold where they lay, tingling into an almost numbing sensation, but at the same time, his muscles felt so _sensitive_ and _raw_. He tilted his head up when F.A.N.G kissed his neck, obediently laying back onto the soft mattress when he leaned into him. Long fingers pressed against his lips, their poisonous touch reaching for his tongue. The flavor was sickeningly sweet, like an overripe fruit, with an aftertaste that was bitter as old beer. It wasn’t preferable, but the way he forced into Bison’s wet mouth was _erotic_. The challenge of submitting himself to the potential danger of F.A.N.G’s poison, _even more so_.

“Oh, you like that, do you?” F.A.N.G teased, pulling his hand back with a long thread of saliva. “Do I taste good, Bison?”

“ _Delicious_ , Lord F.A.N.G.”

His tone was now one of needy desire.

He reveled in the feeling of F.A.N.G’s nails dragging up the thick muscle of his legs, of the excited panting of hot breaths, the bruising bites upon his shoulder. F.A.N.G’s clothes wrinkled under Bison’s grip, the seams fraying in places, but F.A.N.G did not appear to notice, as he was far too involved in making his horny slut shudder and moan. He slowly, carefully peeled Bison’s underwear down from his hips, but as soon as his thin hands clasped his erection, the man’s eyes glowed lavender with the threat of immanent Psycho energy.

“F-F.A.N.G, you idiot! Not with your _goddamn_ poison.”

F.A.N.G hesitated, but decided to take his chances. Bison inhaled sharply at the poison’s prickling along his shaft, but F.A.N.G’s touch was gentle, the toxicity mild, and as long as he was careful not to break the skin, there shouldn’t be any severe effects. Once the initial wave of intensity passed, the prickling subsided into a more _manageable_ discomfort.

“F.A.N.G, _god_ … You’d better not… ugh…”

“It feels good, doesn’t it, Bison?”

“ _Shit_ …”

F.A.N.G’s hand slid up the wide length of Bison’s cock, squeezing gently as his palm crested the head. Bison let out a long, gravelly moan, his luminescent eyes fluttering closed. When they opened again, the glow was gone, but his expression was still tight with concern. Perhaps it was too much for him after all?

“Hmm...” F.A.N.G bit his lip, then licked it seductively. “Well, I suppose you’ve been good. Why don’t I clean this poison off of you, then?”

Bison spread his legs further at the offer, as F.A.N.G knelt before him. His cock, fat and pink with arousal, glistened with a thin layer of translucent purple poison. F.A.N.G seemed to admire the aesthetic of it. There was a long moment of gazing before Bison mumbled something to get his attention.

F.A.N.G looked up abruptly. “Hmm? What was that?”

“ _Pleassse_ , Lord F.A.N.G…” his words were comprehensible, but ever so slightly slurred. It seemed that the poison, even in its low concentration, was starting to affect him. _It was nothing_ , Bison thought, _barely a bit of intoxication_. Certainly nothing worthy of giving up and asking F.A.N.G to stop. Sure, his senses were becoming a little disoriented, but it was fine as long as he focussed on something. Focussed on F.A.N.G. On F.A.N.G’s long, slithering tongue, the feeling of its smooth wetness pressing against his shaft, dragging along the underside in slow, steady motions.

Gradually, the cold tingling on his skin was replaced by the tight heat of F.A.N.G’s mouth. Thin lips sealed around him, gliding upward and down, sometimes parting to loose his tongue and a mess of saliva, which pooled in a tangle of gray hairs and dripped down the smooth curve of his balls.  Once or twice, he managed to descend entirely, his throat desperately resisting the urge to choke as he did so. F.A.N.G growled a low moan as he sucked Bison off, possibly savoring the taste of his own poison, but, in any case–-it felt _incredible_.

“Mmmngh, **yes** , _Lord F.A.N.G!_ ” the title was so much easier to say with the encouragement of inebriation (at least, he would tell himself as much). “ _Lord F.A.N.G_ , you… Hah… _sssshit_ … I-I’m gonna cum…”

“Oh, you’d better NOT.”

Bison’s heart skipped. His face burned red, as crimson as the hue of F.A.N.G’s suit. Yes… _F.A.N.G_ was in charge. Bison was _allowing_ him to be in charge, but… If F.A.N.G asked him to hold back his orgasm, _he’d do so_. Even as his tense balls ached for release.

“I don’t want you to cum until I’m _inside you_.” F.A.N.G reiterated at a whisper, two fingers applying the _slightest_ pressure to Bison’s hole. Luckily, he had enough sense not to insert his _claws_ into him, although-–and this may have been the drunkenness and lust compelling him, but–-he _craved_ for more of F.A.N.G’s poison in his body.

Bison licked his lips, the taste still bitter, still arousing. F.A.N.G stood at full height, elegant but fierce, his expression unreadable as he stared Bison down. The naked man dared not look away, even as he heard the loud metal _click_ of a belt buckle, the shifting of fabric, and crackle of zipper that indicated the unfastening of pants.

For the briefest moment, F.A.N.G’s face softened. “This… this _is_ okay, isn’t it, Lord Bison?”

Bison sat up, shooting F.A.N.G an incredulous look as he gestured to his lap.

“Do I not seem _hard_ to you? Don’t insult me.”

“Of… of course, Lord Bison! It’s just… the _poison_ … I wouldn’t want to…”

“To _what_? Do you think I’m afraid of a little _inebriation_? A touch of  _dizziness_? Believe me, I’ve experienced worse. My enemies even _more so_. Your poison is _nothing_ compared to my Psycho Power.”

F.A.N.G was silent for a long moment before his lips curled into a broad smile. His tone dropped again, his demeanor falling back into a state of aggressive dominance.

“Well then… let’s see how tough you are when you’re pinned to that bed with my cock deep inside you.”

Bison flinched. _Damn, it didn’t take much to snap him back into the mood._ His whole body trembled, possibly from the chill of the poison on his skin, possibly from the feeling of physical vulnerability and being talked down to. His white eyes watched as F.A.N.G revealed his erection, poisonous hands stroking its length.

Like all things with F.A.N.G–-and he really should have expected this–-his cock was long, or at least its slenderness and curvature gave it that appearance. The man stroked himself, seemingly unfazed by the touch of toxic purple slathering his flesh. In the back of his mind, Bison knew that, _of course_ F.A.N.G wasn’t bothered by the feeling of poison against his cock; he was completely _immune_ to its effects. But the imagery of F.A.N.G stoically coating himself in the same fluid that made Bison squirm with hypersensitivity only minutes before-–it was something powerful. _Taunting_ , even.

“Down, Bison.”

He fell back onto the bed, his legs parted at an inclined angle. It was, apparently, not satisfactory enough of a position for F.A.N.G, for he gripped Bison’s calves in a forceful gesture, pulling him closer to the mattress’ edge, propping his ankles onto his pauldrons.

Bison’s jaw was tight, his mouth dry. Sweat formed in patches on his bare skin, mixing the sweet fragrance of poison with the sour overtones of musk. He stared up at F.A.N.G: so damned tall, so imposing, and, dare he say–-so _handsome_. Conventionally attractive, hardly, but the way he postured with the confidence of power and control was something exhilarating. Bison wanted nothing more in that moment than to be _ravaged_ by it.

“D… _Dessstroy me_ , Lord F.A.N.G.”

F.A.N.G inhaled a deep breath, his heart fluttering, and then-–slowly-–began to enter him. The poison made for decent lubrication, although its cold numbing made Bison writhe. It had a different feeling INSIDE of him than it did on the surface of his skin. It wasn’t exactly _pain_ , but he had an acute awareness of its oozing into his tight muscles, relaxing them while stimulating all of his nerves.

Halfway in, F.A.N.G let out a soft sigh of “ _Lord Bison_ ,” possibly without realizing he had done so. His slender face was flushed, eyes averted. It was a look of being… immensely flattered. Bison was allowing F.A.N.G the privilege of fucking him, and F.A.N.G was absolutely _honored_ by it.

His thrusts were slow for a minute or two, until Bison begged to be taken harder. As a consequence of F.A.N.G’s lanky proportions, it required a bit of repositioning for him to be able to oblige, but once the proper angle was achieved, it wasn’t long before Bison’s body rippled with hot Psycho Energy, his voice a slurred incantation of vulgarity and animalistic cries. 

F.A.N.G was aware of the danger, but his desire to please Lord Bison just barely outweighed his fear, and besides: he couldn’t help but feel a guilty thrill from taking charge, or from the feeling of Bison’s strong body as it trembled with arousal and supernatural force. The most powerful man in the world, shuddering beneath him, shouting his name, responding so well, so _vocally_ to each of his deep thrusts.

“ _F-F.A.N.G_ …” Bison’s moan was a long whine that manifested in at least three different pitches, “F.A.N.G, _please_ , I’m close, please, I’m going to…”

“ **Do it**.”

Bison’s release was… quieter than F.A.N.G had expected. It was less a cry of ecstasy and more a raspy, breathless gasp. However, his eyes were vibrant with passion as blood and Psycho Power rushed through his veins, his cock throbbing with a burst of _so much ejaculate_. Thick streams of it clung to F.A.N.G’s uniform, exceptionally warm. 

F.A.N.G continued fucking Bison through his orgasm, until he too came with a harsh whine. It was obnoxious, practically a bird’s shriek, but at this point he was unable to stop himself. He was in too deep–-literally–-deep in passion and deep in Bison’s ass. The wetness of his cum blended with the slickness of the poison, filling Bison with the most sinful concoction of fluids.

Then, panting, he collapsed on top of him, chest aching as he recovered his breaths. Bison’s aura of ethereal flickering faded quickly, leaving behind a smoldering scent in the air around them.

They lay together like this for some time, unmoving but for the slightest caress of fingers through hair, of kisses on lips. For a man whose mind was mad with raw psychic power, and a man who wielded the touch of death, this moment together was rather… human. Mortal. F.A.N.G kept expecting Bison to resume his familiar “all-powerful leader” demeanor, shooing him away before the slightest hint of emotion revealed itself, but for a while, he seemed content to lay there in a loose, intimate embrace. Bison made no eye contact or any sort of readable expression, but his pulse was calm, his touch… delicate.

“F.A.N.G…?” Bison mumbled after clearing his aching throat.

F.A.N.G remained silent, but lifted himself so that he could look at Bison more directly. Still no expression, no eye contact, but…

“…thank you.”

And, perhaps, the slightest hint of a grin.


End file.
